Flesh and Blood
by Perturabo
Summary: The Flesh Tearers 2nd Company are called to save an Imperial world from the World Eaters Legion. However, their very honour and loyalty will be tested to the extreme, as the Flaw becomes a tool that Chaos will use against them. Please rate and review
1. Chapter 1

The fleet of starships burst from the Warp high above the hive world Malthrax in a burst of purple eldritch energy as the ships' Warp shields deflected the deadly energies of the Empyrean. At first glance, they seemed to standard flotilla of Adeptus Astartes ships; several strike cruisers and two enormous battle barges. The ships bore no discernable symbol but as the vox casters situated in the orbital defence station attempted to hail the new arrivals, the reply was not a voxcast but a sudden hail of battery and lance fire that quickly crippled the stations' defence and long range comms systems. No sooner as the fleets' opening barrage ended, several Drop Pods were launched from one of the strike cruisers.

The Dreadclaw drop pods shot through the void, slamming into the hull of the orbital station with a deafening screech of metal grinding against metal, disgorging their deadly cargo into the midst of the reeling Imperial forces. The first few minutes of the boarding action were complete carnage as armoured giants leapt from the Drop Pods and tore through the stunned defenders, monstrous chain weapons rising and falling in time to the grotesque symphony of the screams of terror and fear. So fast did the invaders advance through the defence station, a proper defence couldn't be organised.

After an hour of viewing the violence and bloodshed through a series of pict screens, the Imperial Guard commander, Colonel Lukas Xavier of the 33rd Malthraxan Infantry Regiment, finally got a look at the invaders as a series of melta charge detonations blasted through the 10 inch thick plassteel door of his command centre. Out of the billowing, acrid smoke came several howling madmen; clad in deformed and twisted power armour the colour of blood and wielding an assortment of shrieking chainswords and chainaxes. They ripped through his command staff, cleaving heads from shoulders, hacking off limbs and splitting open torsos in an orgy of slaughter the likes of which Lukas had never seen. He suddenly realised who the invaders were; Chaos Space Marines, the ancient enemies of the Imperium, followers of the Ruinous Powers and traitors to the God-Emperor. The Chaos Marines paid no heed to pleas for mercy, laughing as they butchered men and woman alike. But they avoided Lukas, moving past him as they massacred his staff. Behind these slaughtermen, a true giant strode into the abattoir that had been Lukas' command bridge.

The Chaos Marines split ranks to allow the newcomer through and the room fell silent. Taller than even his gore slicked comrades, this newcomer possessed the swagger of a born leader. He advanced on Lukas, blood and gore dripping from his immense and ancient Terminator armour. Skulls, human and xenos, some old and withered, others fresh and bloody hung from his waist and studded the trophy rack bolted onto the back of his armour. His right hand was encased in an immense taloned gauntlet that crackled with baleful energies and in his left, the head of Lukas' second in command, Lieutenant Colonel Alecto Tarson who had left the command centre to lead the defence of the orbital station. A monstrous glaive was strapped across his back, constantly emitting a keening howl that rang trough the command centre

The giant advanced, and Lukas desperately fought against the primal urge to flee from this towering monstrosity. The giant halted a few feet in front of him and tossed the severed head to Lukas' feet.

A grating voice growled from the vox emitter on the giant's snarling helmet

"_Even after your pathetic martial display, I think it only honourable that you know the identity of your conqueror._"

Despite the overriding fear coursing through him, Lukas managed to find his voice.

"What do you know of honour? You are a traitor!"

The Chaos Lord laughed; a harsh sound that crackled from his spiked helmet.

"_Your pathetic devotion to that rotting corpse on Terra is laudable but you are correct, I sided with my Primarch and the Warmaster against your False Emperor. I slew thousands during the Dropsite Massacre, the Siege of Terra and thousands more since then. For over ten millennia I have fought the Long War against your weakling Imperium. I fought alongside my master in the Dominion of Fire and the First War of Armageddon."_

Lukas stood rooted to the spot, his earlier courage dissipating in wake of the millennia old malice and hatred that echoed within the warrior's voice.

"_I have come to this world with the same intentions. This world will burn and its defenders and inhabitants massacred for I am Kharlor Bloodreaver, Captain of the 3__rd__Assault Company of the World Eaters Legion, Herald of the Red Angel and Destroyer of Worlds."_

Lukas went numb with shock as the full horror of what was to befall his world crashed upon him. He looked up and stared blankly into the glinting eyepieces of the Chaos Lord's helmet as the taloned fist swept back and punched through his chest, shattering his ribcage, tearing his heart and lungs to shreds and piercing his back. Lukas tried to scream but it ended in a choking gurgle as blood filled his mouth.

Kharlor lifted the Imperial lapdog off his feet, savouring the look of unbridled terror and pain etched into his eyes. He watched as the Imperial stared at his lifeblood spilling onto the floor. He removed his helmet, smiling coldly as he saw the Imperial's eyes widen in shook upon seeing his face, half obscured by gruesome scar tissue.

"_No last words?" _he sneered "_No last pray to your God Emperor?"_

The Imperial dog gargled and spat a mouthful of blood at his face.

"_Pathetic." _he snarled and flung the Imperial across the room, the body smacking into the wall with a sickening crunch.

Kharlor turned his back on the blood slicked command centre and stalked out of the command centre. As he walked back towards his transport, he heard the screams as his Berserkers cleaned up the remaining survivors. He activated his vox link to his fleet commander.

"_Begin bombarding the spaceport and hive cities."_

"_Prepare the Company for immediate planetary assault. I want Dreadclaw drop pods and transports ready to launch when I return" _

"_Let this world burn."_


	2. Chapter 2

Captain Jarkel Thral of the 2nd Company marched through the halls of the Flesh Tearers fortress monastery towards the Chapter Master's audience chamber. He assumed that his summons was to send him to another warzone, where the he would strike against the enemies of Mankind. However, he would not be able to share the glory of battle with any fellow Imperial forces. Due to the Flesh Tearers infamous savagery, bloodlust and the high level of collateral damage inflicted on their allies, they were now mistrusted and even feared amongst other Imperial forces. There were even whispers of an ongoing covert Inquisitorial investigation since the Kallern Massacres in the 36th Millennium. Thral felt his choler rise at this; the Flesh Tearers were loyal sons of their Primarch Sanguinius and the Emperor. It was the genetic legacy of their founding Legion, the Blood Angels that caused their extreme bloodletting and violent temperament. The genetic flaws present in their geneseed, the Black Rage and Red Thirst were causing more Flesh Tearers to slip into a furious, blood soaked madness that only death could end. Those battle brothers that remained sane constantly fought the urge to indulge in barbaric slaughter whenever in battle, even if to do so suicidal. Too many brothers had been lost when they charged heedlessly into combat, gripped by the primal urge to spill blood.

Thral remembered that, upon his ascension to the office of Chapter Master, Gabriel Seth had been informed by the Chief Sanguinary Priest that, with current rate of Marines succumbing to the Black Rage and Red Thirst, within the next two hundred years the Flesh Tearers Chapter would be cease to exist. Following this dire news, Seth had decreed that instead of the Flesh Tearers passing on into the annals of history with whispers of madness and savagery, they would go with glory and distinguished service to the Emperor and the Imperium. Therefore, he commanded the remaining four companies of Flesh Tearers to perform great patrol arcs across the void, searching for any distress calls. The Chapter's remaining Librarians were commanded to do the same, sifting through the sea of astropathic messages, searching for calls for aid. When a message was intercepted, a strike force would be assembled and sent to the warzone. The Flesh Tearers would then arrive before any other Imperial forces, striking hard, fast and in isolation to hide their bloodthirsty excesses.

Leaving his musings of his Chapter's fate, Thral slowed as he approached the entrance to his Chapter Master's audience chamber. Two veterans stood to attention and saluted as he reached the door and pushed the bronze double doors open. Thral inclined his head in acknowledgement and marched into the immense domed chamber, the walls depicting great victories of the Flesh Tearers. Gabriel Seth, Chapter Master of the Flesh Tearers and Guardian of the Rage, stood at the centre of the chamber. Clad in ornate power armour coloured in the red and black of the Flesh Tearers, Gabriel strode over the Thral, the ever present dour expression on his face. One hundred years into his leadership of the Flesh Tearers, Seth had seen many fellow Astartes fall to the Black Rage, making him a grim and unforgiving leader.

"We have received a distress call from the hive world Malthrax. From the sparse intel gained from the message, it seems that the planet has been invaded by the Forces of Chaos" Seth stated bluntly. "You are to prepare your Company for immediate departure and make the Warp jump to the planet and engage the Traitor forces."

"Yes my lord." Thral replied, slamming his armoured forearm across his chest, an ancient martial salute.

"Remember Thral; avoid any contact with any other Imperial forces. We cannot afford another incident like on Armageddon." Seth added grimly.

"Aye my lord." Thral answered, thinking of the slaughter the Flesh Tearers had engaged in during the Third War of Armageddon. When they ran out of Orks to kill, the Marines proceeded to massacre a militia formed from the hive city's populace. He saluted again, turned and marched out of the audience chamber.

As he strode back towards the armoury, Thral activated his vox, calling his second-in-command, Cain Harlen.

"Harlen" he barked "Come in."

"Aye sir" Harlen replied.

"We're moving out" Thral stated "A hive world has been invaded by Chaos and the Chapter Master has chosen the Second to strike back. I want all Marines armed and ready for transport to _Cretacia's Wrath _in 20 minutes."

"Yes sir" Harlen answered and closed the link.

Thral had reached the Chapter armoury, racks of weapons ranged before him, the clash of metal ringing from the training cages as Marines honed their already lethal combat skills. As a Captain of the Chapter, Thral was permitted to wield any weapon of his choice, be it standard pattern or ancient relic. Despite the lethality of power weapons and superiority of artificer crafted relic weapons, Thral always preferred the simple brutality of fighting with two chainaxes. Able to chew through flesh, bone and even the ceramite plate of Astartes power armour, the chainaxe was similar to its cousin, the chainsword but inflicted far greater damage on its victims. Selecting two from a nearby rack, Thral swung them in a series of slow circles, enjoying their comforting weight in his hands. Strapping the twin axes onto the weapon holster on his backpack, Thral selected frag grenades and extra boltgun magazines, though he doubted he would need them given the Flesh Tearers overwhelming desire for close combat. Also, given that the battlefields on Malthrax would be blasted, urban cityscapes, brutal close combat would be the norm. Thral grinned, his pulse quickening as combat stimulants surged through his body at the prospect of spilling blood. Instinctively, he reached for the hafts of his chainaxes. Catching himself, Thral clenched his teeth and resisted the desire to cleave, to main, to kill. Breathing hard, he forced his hands down. He was aware that it was becoming harder to resist such urges and that they were becoming more frequent - he would have to speak to Chaplain Greson about them. Forcing himself not to dwell on such things, he checked all his equipment and marched towards the hanger to await his Company.

Sergeant Rikko marched into the hanger with his Assault squad following behind. Judging by the hectic commotion within the hanger, he guessed that the 2nd Company was to be sent to yet another warzone, to fight for an Imperium that distrusted and maybe even feared them. It rankled with him that his Chapter had to fight and die for an ungrateful master. They were the Adeptus Astartes, Space Marines, noble sons of the Emperor and Sanguinius – they deserved the respect and honour given to all other Chapters. But Rikko pushed such thoughts from his mind, knowing that it was his duty to serve his Chapter and the Emperor, regardless of his own views. He moved his squad into position alongside his fellow battle brothers. In front of the one hundred assembled Astartes stood Captain Thral, Company Chaplain Greson and Brale, a Sanguinary Priest. Thral removed his helmet and tucked it under his arm.

"Brothers of the Second!" he cried out "We have been called upon to bring the Emperor's salvation to a world overrun by Chaos. We shall strike hard and fast at the traitors and show them the fury of the Flesh Tearers! We will show them the rage that Sanguinius himself felt at the betrayal of the Arch Traitor and they will turn and flee from our wrath!"

Rikko felt his hearts soar at his Captain's words and felt proud to be a Flesh Tearer. He joined in the cheering and shouting of his brothers, inspired by the camaraderie he felt for them. Even if they were alone and distrusted by the Imperium, nothing would ever break the bonds of brotherhood forged between him and his brothers. Captain Thral removed his right gauntlet, took a combat knife and sliced open his palm. Blood welled up and Thral clenched his fist.

"I swear, by the blood of our Primarch, that I shall strike at the enemies of Mankind and lead you, my brothers into battle against the traitors and heretics that have invaded one of the Emperor's domains." With the Captain's blood oath sworn, his second, Cain Harlen began directing squads to waiting Thunderhawk transports, which would take them up to _Cretacia's Wrath _and then to battle.

After 2 months of travel through the roiling tides of the Warp, _Cretacia's Wrath _was nearing its destination. The crew predicted that they would arrive within a matter of days and Captain Thral had summoned all squad leaders to the bridge for preliminary briefing. He watched as they marched in, armoured in full battle plate, their armour gleaming in the bright lights of the bridge.

"Brothers" he began "We will soon be arriving at the hive world Malthrax and here's what we know so far." He called up a pict display of the planet, denoting the major hive cities and spaceport. "From the limited intel we received with the original distress call, we know that the Chaos fleet arrived and quickly overcame the orbital defence stations and then invaded the main hive, Malthraxan Prime and the spaceport. We don't know who the enemy is but from the speed and ferocity of the attack, we can assume that they are Traitor Astartes." Thral felt the atmosphere shift almost immediately at the mention of Chaos Space Marines, for they were the greatest of Mankind's enemies and the chance to strike at these renegades was a great honour for any Space Marine Chapter.

"Do we know if any other Imperial forces are en route?" asked Larker, leader of an Assault squad.

"No but we can assume that the Imperial Guard will be present." replied Thral. "As per Chapter Master Seth's decree, we are to avoid any contact with any Imperial forces, regardless of what branch of the Imperium they hail from."

"Aye sir" replied his officers.

"We will deploy via standard Drop Pod assault into the heart of enemy forces and then set to work." continued Thral, noting the feral grins of his sergeants. "We will then continue to strike at the traitor forces and attempt to locate and eliminate the Chaos warlord no doubt leading them. Any questions?"

"If I may interject Captain" echoed an ominous voice from shadows. Thral turned and saw the grim armoured form of Chaplain Greson marching onto the bridge. His helmet worked into the form of a skull and his armour painted deepest black, Greson was a sinister figure but despite this, Thral knew he was a fearless warrior and devoted to the Flesh Tearers and the Emperor.

"Yes Chaplain, what is it you wish to say?" asked Thral.

"Unfortunately it is grave news Captain" the chaplain replied "I have come to inform you that several of our brothers have fallen to the Rage."

"Who?" Thral said with a heavy heart.

"Brothers Moran and Karn of Squad Rikko, Brother Arlen of Squad Larker and Brothers Xephan, Harlor and Sarca of Squad Harlen. It's only the early stages but I have placed them under my care now to watch over them as the Rage deepens."

"Very well" sighed Thral "they will be the first Marines to deploy. I will not deny them battle any longer than I have to. Return to your charges Chaplain"

"Yes Captain" replied Greson, who saluted and left.

Thral turned to look at his sergeants, especially Harlen, Rikko and Larker and saw the sorrow in their eyes at the loss of their brothers.

"Remember brothers" he said slowly "they shall die as they lived, in battle and service to their Chapter and Emperor. You are dismissed."

Without another word, the sergeants saluted and left the bridge to prepare their squads. Thral remained on the bridge, contemplating the fate of his Company and Chapter.


	3. Chapter 3

Guardsman Alastor Graven, formerly of the 22nd Malthraxan Infantry Regiment, sat in a trench network amongst the ruins of Malthraxan Prime. It had been 3 months since the liberation of Malthrax at the hands of Lord Bloodreaver from the corrupt yolk of the Imperium. His Assault Company had descended upon the PDF and Malthraxan Imperial Guard forces with the fury of Lord Khorne himself. Alastor had been one amongst the thousands of Guardsmen that had decided survival was more important than a pointless death in the name of an Emperor that didn't know or care about them. They had renounced their oaths to the Emperor and the Imperium and sworn new blood oaths to Lord Bloodreaver and his dark master Khorne, the Blood God. Since then, they had formed the mortal section of Bloodreaver's Company, fighting against their former comrades-in-arms and supporting his Marines.

Alastor smiled, thinking of how his fortunes had changed since Lord Kharlor's arrival. Before, he had been a simple faceless Guardsman, unknown to his commanders and unlikely of promotion. But now, he was commander of his own battle group, a body of fifty men that he was responsible for arming and leading. He relished his responsibilities and lead from the frontline, unlike his former commanders who had hidden away in bunkers.

"Not that doing so had saved them" chuckled Alastor, remembering how Lord Bloodreaver's Marines had stormed the command bunkers in a maelstrom of fire and blood, slaughtering his regiment's commanders in a matter of gore soaked minutes.

"Commander Graven!" cried one of his scouts, running towards him and ending his reminisces. "Sarson reports of seeing streaks of fire in the sky, falling near our forward positions."

"Thank you Greck. I'll vox Sarson to find out what's happening. You are dismissed."

"Aye sir." replied Greck, who saluted and left. Alastor reached for his portable vox caster, activating and tuning it to the frequency of Sarson's vox. A burst of static answered him then a horrific scream screeched through the vox caster. Alastor swore as Sarson's voice screamed at him through a background on gunfire and howls of terror.

"GRAVEN! SEND REINFORCEMENTS NOW! WE UNDER ATTACK FROM ABOVE! IT'S….."

The vox went dead, the silence shocking after the deafening noise before. Realising he needed to raise the alarm, Alastor leapt to his feet and began sprinting down the trench. Not five minutes had passed when a screaming ball of fire plummeted from the sky and slammed into the ground in front of him. Alastor skidded to a halt as the dust cleared revealed a metal pod, glowing red hot with heat.

"No, no, no, no, no" whimpered Alastor as the doors burst open. No sooner had the doors hit the ground, six giant warriors, clad in black power armour and wielding shrieking chainswords leapt from the pod. Roaring and screaming with a battle fury Alastor had only heard from Lord Bloodreaver's most bloodthirsty Berserkers. He stood, numb with shock as one warrior thundered towards him and clove him two with one sweep of his chainsword.

Thral swept his left chainaxe in a lethal downward arc, bisecting a traitor guardsman from shoulder to hip whilst his other axe decapitated another. His armour was already caked in gore, completely obscuring the red and black of his armour. Their drop pod assault had been a complete success – sudden, lethal and catching the enemy totally unprepared. Another traitor soldier ran at him but Thral brought his right axe round, slamming it into the man's stomach and shearing through his spine. The heady tang of split blood infused Thral's senses but he resisted the urge to give in to the Thirst and continued to work through the mass of Chaos soldiers in a grim, methodical fashion. He became a whirlwind of whirring teeth and gore, scything through the ranks of traitor guardsmen with horrific ease. He heard the roar of the Death Company as they vented their battle madness on their terrified victims. Pausing to see the overall progress of the battle, Thral saw that they had all but won this section of the enemy frontline. Activating the general vox link with all squad leaders he issued the order to clean up, regroup and continue to the next objective, the central bunker at the heart of the trench system.

"Chaplain" he voxed, switching to Greson's personal vox link "Direct the Death Company towards the primary objective."

"Yes Captain. Greson out." replied the Chaplain.

Thral lead his command squad towards the bunker. The five man squad, armed with mighty two handed chainswords, served as his bodyguard and centre of his command. Each was a veteran of the Flesh Tearers but not in the eyes of other Chapters since each battle brother was under 200 years old. But, given the short life expectancy of the Flesh Tearers, to have survived over 100 years without succumbing to the flaws present within them, these Marines were considered experienced enough to serve in a Captain's command squad. They now proved their skill and battle experience, cleaving through the remaining defenders that protected the central bunker. Soon there was nothing left but severed body parts and pools of blood and gore. The way to the bunker was open.

"Rikko" voxed Thral "Set melta charges and blast the door."

"Aye sir" replied Rikko as he strode up to the bunker entrance, planted the charges and retreated to a safe distance.

"All squads, fan out and watch for enemy reinforcements" voxed Harlen. "Chaplain, send the Death Company in before any enemy forces sally forth."

"Breaching in four…three….two…one" counted Rikko as an almighty explosion tore a gaping hole in the thick steel doors. No sooner had the sound of the explosion died, a single roar sounded from the within the darkness.

"BLOOD FOR THE BLOOD GOD!"

Several howling Berserkers, clad in ancient Mark V power armour the colour of blood and decorated with brass and wielding immense chainaxes clotted with dried blood, charged out of the bunker. Before any Flesh Tearers could react, the Death Company leapt to meet them, barrelling into the Chaos Marines with a deafening crash of ceramite and shrieking chainweapons. None of the sane Flesh Tearers dared move to support them – this was the fate of the Death Company, to seek death in battle. The Berserkers were filled with all the maddening blood rage of their god, but the Death Company, reliving the Siege of Terra ten thousand years ago, were gifted with a portion of Sanguinius' godlike strength. With terrifying ease, they tore the Traitor Marines apart, hacking off limbs and cleaving through armour as if it did not exist. But despite this, they could not prevail totally. Three of the doomed brothers had already been slain, killed even as fought against the corrupted Marines.

Soon, only the Berserker Skull Champion, the most skilled and the most bloodthirsty of his squad, remained and he cut down two of the doomed brothers, beheading them with mighty strokes from his roaring chainaxe.

"SANGUINIUS!" roared the Brother Karn, seeing, through his eyes, the death of his Primarch at the hands of the Arch Traitor. Seized by a blood fury that dwarfed all others, he ran at the Champion, hacking and slashing with his chainsword. The Skull Champion met his challenge with a defiant roar of hatred. Both warriors fought with a blazing fury, both lost in their own blood madness. The Champion thundered a fist into the Karn's head, splitting the ceramite helmet and momentarily staggering him. Taking advantage of this split second opening, the Champion brought his chainaxe down in a gore splattered arc. Seeing the attack coming and reacting with inhuman speed, Karn brought his chainsword up to block the killing blow. The whirring teeth meet in a blazing crash of sparks as fibre muscle bundles strained as both warriors tried to gain the upper hand. Brother Karn forced the chainaxe out wide and disarmed the Champion with one swipe of his chainsword, hacking off his right arm at the elbow. The Champion pulled out a combat knife and stabbed at Karn's gorget. Normally, such an attack would do not harm a Space Marine, but fuelled by the Champion's inhuman strength, the monomolecular blade slammed into Karn's throat with a sickening thud. Karn hardly faltered as blood spilled from his neck, the Black Rage allowing him to withstand even mortal wounds. Battling through the pain, Karn raised his chainsword and clove through the Champion's remaining arm. Falling to his knees, the Champion continued to roar praises to his bloodthirsty god. Karn raised his chainsword and brought it down in a brutal swing, slamming into the Champion's neck, powering through ceramite and reinforced bone, severing the Champion's head in a spray of arterial blood. Only then did Karn collapse from his wounds, pitching onto his back in a clatter of armour plate. Chaplain Greson strode forward and administered the Emperor's Grace, ending Karn's life and the blood madness that gripped him with a bolter round in the forehead. This was perhaps the grimmest duty that Flesh Tearer Chaplains had to perform – to end the lives of those Death Company members that had either survived the battle as they were too dangerous and unstable to let live or had suffered such horrendous injuries that death would be a release.

"Move out." ordered Thral, not wishing to remain at the bunker any longer that possible. Apart from the loss of the Death Company, no other Flesh Tearers had been lost in the assault. "Spread out and locate the next concentration of enemy forces. Rikko, you're on point and Larker, you're on rearguard duty. We will not stop until we have purged this planet of Chaos."


	4. Chapter 4

Sergeant Julius Micca slumped against the dugout wall trying to remain alert for signs of enemy movement. He performed another long range auspex scan to discern where the traitor guardsmen were, not that they were likely to have moved, he thought. This was a quiet section of the frontline and both sides were unwilling to commit any large number of forces to attempt an offensive.

"What's the fragging point of us being here then?" grumbled Micca as the auspex completed its scan. "What the - ?" he spluttered as the scan result appeared on his pict screen. The enemy forces had gone; disappeared. He checked the previous scan result taken three hours ago. It clearly showed the enemy forces well dug in but content to hold the line there. But now they weren't there. Realising that this was important intel, Micca grabbed the vox and tuned it to his command's frequency.

"Command Bunker Epsilion Beta 3, this is Sergeant Julius Micca. Come in, over."

"Receiving you, Sergeant Micca. What is your message?" the vox caster replied.

"Recent auspex scans reveal that enemy forces located in Quadrant 6 Sector 3 have gone."

"Repeat. Enemy forces in Quadrant 6 Sector 3 have...gone?"

"Yessir."

A new voice crackled over the vox."Sergeant Micca, this is Lieutenant Taric. Go with your squad to the last known position of enemy forces and see if you can discover the reason for their disappearance."

"Yessir, right away sir. Sergeant Micca out."

Turning and leaving his dugout, Micca assembled his 10 man squad of Guardsmen, armed with standard pattern lasguns and a flamer.

"We've been given a recon mission" he announced "the enemy has gone missing and it's our job to find them. We move out in ten." His men nodded and saluted and soon were assembled in patrol formation. Quickly crossing no man's land, they soon came across scenes of utter carnage – severed body parts, gore and blood everywhere and all the dead were traitor guardsmen.

"Spread out and see if you can find anything that might tell us who did this." shouted Micca. "Whoever did this certainly knew what they were doing" he murmured to himself.

He moved through the battlefield, shocked and sickened at the devastation and butchery visited upon the enemy. Never had he seen such brutal tactics used. So busy looking around the gore slicked floor, he failed to see it until he nearly walked into it. An immense metal pod, a drop pod of some description. Then it hit him. A drop pod. Only one force in the galaxy used such awe inspiring and terrifying tools – Space Marines. Grabbing a pict stealer he rapidly took a series of picts of the drop pod. Knowing that each Space Marine Chapter had distinctive heraldry, he scoured the pod for a Chapter symbol. Eventually, he found it – a white circular saw with a red teardrop in its centre. He did not recognise it but assumed that his commander would.

"I've found what we need" he voxed his squad "return to base. I need to see Colonel Thracker"

"General Vicander, I bring important news from Colonel Thracker." announced Thracker's aide. General Vicander, commander of Imperial forces on Malthrax, looked up from maps, charts and regimental lists and glowered at the aide.

"This had better BE important" he replied gruffly "I've got a planet to win back with limited resources. What have you got?"

"Picts from one of Colonel Thracker's sergeants, sir. The Colonel says they can tip the balance of the war." said the aide earnestly, handing Vicander several pict images. Vicander glanced over the images, his eyes widening as he saw what they showed.

"Holy Throne on Terra" he swore.

"Sir?" asked the aide.

"THAT'S ALL I NEED!" thundered Vicander, causing the aide to recoil in fright. "BAD ENOUGH THAT WE'RE FIGHTING CHAOS HERE; SPACE MARINES WILL JUST MAKE IT WORSE!"

"How sir?" the aide asked tentatively "Surely the presence of the Adeptus Astartes would serve as a massive boon to morale and our ability to combat the Forces of Chaos."

"NO IT WON'T!" cried Vicander "They're here to fight their own damnable war against the Traitor Marines. Don't expect them to support us. And to make it even worse, it's the Flesh Tearers Chapter. They're barbaric and bloodthirsty to the extreme! They kill their own allies once they've run out enemies! They're blood drinkers and cannibals! They are no better than the blood mad monsters we're already fighting!"

The aide, too terrified to reply, scurried out of Vicander's command centre. As for Vicander, he slumped back into his chair, massaging his temples and trying to think how to deal with this latest news.


	5. Chapter 5

Thral brought his right chainaxe round, ripping its buzzing teeth into and through a Traitor guardsman's chest in a fountain of blood. The Flesh Tearers had come across another trench network defended by a sizeable force of Traitor guardsmen although they were much closer to Imperial lines than before. But the risk of discovery outweighed his battle brothers' desire for combat. They had fallen on the traitor lines with all the battle fury they were known for, charging out of the ruins and rubble and into the trenches, Thral leading his command squad in first. Against one hundred Space Marines, none could stand against their wrath as they carved through the guardsmen.

Thral felt a lasbolt ping of his pauldron and smiled beneath his helmet as he smacked the haft of his left axe in the shooter's face, shattering his skull. A reverse stroke from his right axe smashed through another guardsman's lasrifle and carried on into his chest, cleaving him in two, whilst simultaneously kicking out with his right boot, smashing another man's pelvis. The coppery smell of blood filtered through his helmet's rebreather system, sending combat stimulants surging through his system. The red mist began to creep over his eyes but Thral fought against, knowing it would do him no good to give in to the Red Thirst. Pausing to check on the rest of his brothers, Thral saw that, once again, they had nearly cleared this area of traitors. Worryingly, he saw that Squads Rikko and Karic had removed their helmets and were slaughtering the guardsmen with wild abandon, even pausing to lift dying men off their feet to drink the blood spraying from their bodies. He would have to ask Chaplain Greson to speak with them to try and control their urges. Just as they were clearing up the last of the traitors a mocking laugh echoed through the ruins.

"_Do you ever tire of killing these pathetic mortals?" _asked the voice.

"Show yourself coward so I can kill you!" yelled Thral.

"_Ah, direct and to the point"_ answered the voice "_Very well, here I am."_A lone figure strode out from amongst the ruins. As the figure moved towards him, Thral's augmented eyesight easily picked out that the figure was wearing power armour, albeit an ancient suit of Mark IV power armour, blood red, trimmed with brass and decorated with various xenos and human skulls. He also picked out the symbol of a fanged maw with a world between its jaws on one pauldron.

"World Eater." Thral snarled.

"_Yes and proud of it" _snapped the Chaos Marine "_I am Brazik Gorefiend and I still serve my Legion and my Primrach. And you are Captain Jarkel Thral of the Flesh Tearers 2__nd__ Company."_

"How do you know who I am?" demanded Thral.

"_Oh we've had our eye on you and your Chapter for some time now" _remarked Brazik as he removed his helmet to reveal a scarred and battered face with eyes that spoke of unbridled hatred for all living things. Thral noticed a series of wires snaking from the Marine's head, guessing them to be part of the infamous psycho-surgery that the Primarch Angron subjected his entire Legion to. _"You and I were not so dissimilar once. We both..."_

"I am nothing like you, traitor" spat Thral "I am a loyal son of the Emperor and Sanguinius and servant of the Imperium of Mankind."

"_...and yet you hide from your allies on this world. Yes, we've monitored your progress since your planetfall. You have made no contact with Imperial forces and fight in isolation. Why?"_

Thral bristled at this questioning. "We prefer to fight alone."

"_A poor excuse" _stated the World Eater _"You hide because you are shunned by those you serve. The very Imperium you claim to serve are afraid of you, of your fury and battle rage. We World Eaters encountered the same reactions during the Great Crusade. You are even under investigation by the Inquisition. You cannot continue like this – even if you hide your excesses, you will eventually be found out and declared Excommunicate Traitoris and you will be no better than us. Forever damned and cast out from your Emperor's Light."_

Thral stiffened at such a dire proclamation, for he could see it coming to pass if Chapter Master Seth's plan did not work.

"I shall NEVER betray the Imperium" he snarled "and I shall remove your stain from the universe!" and unsheathed his axes and flew at the World Eater.

He had seen the attack coming, the hate and rage seething in the loyalist captain's eyes. In the blink of an eye, Brazik swept out his Khornate chainaxe and swatted the captain's twin axes aside. As he did so, he sent a signal to his warband to charge. Bringing his axe round in a brutal arc, he slammed it into the captain's guard whilst slamming his free hand into the Space Marine's face. Ceramite cracked but the captain had seen the punch coming and rolled with it, removing his useless helmet as he back away. As they both paused, a murderous howl echoed from the ruins and hundreds of World Eater Berserkers emerged and charged the Flesh Tearers. Both sides meet in a deafeningly clash of ceramite and hate as their respective commanders fought to the death.

Thral's vision and awareness shrunk to focus solely on Brazik as he ducked a vicious swipe that would have taken his head off whilst bringing his right axe round to slam into the World Eater's chest. The whirring teeth met the ceramite in a blaze of sparks as it chewed through the armour plating. Thral felt the teeth bite into flesh and blood flowed from the wound. The World Eater howled in anger and pain and smacked his axe haft into Thral's skull. Pain exploded in his brain and Thral fell back, a deep wound cut into his skull. But he did not allow the pain to disorientate him – a quick guess told him his skull was fractured but he could survive it. Bringing his axes together, he leapt to meet the World Eater as he charged again.


	6. Chapter 6

Sergeant Harlen had soon realised that they could not win this battle. The World Eaters were too numerous and had no qualms about surrendering to their battle frenzy. Harlen and his fellow Flesh Tearers had to constantly battle against the urge to give in to the Red Thirst, which divided their attention and focus. Already, Harlen had lost three of his squad and he had no idea how the other squads were fairing. He ducked a wild chainaxe swing and barged forward into his attacker. Momentarily stopping the frenzied onslaught, Harlen rammed his chainsword into the Berserker's breastplate, through the fused ribcage and into his vital organs. Wrenching his blade free and making sure to shred the secondary heart and tertiary lung as he did so, Harlen hadn't chance for the corpse to fall before another howling World Eater leapt at him. He stepped forward to meet him and they clashed in midair. Harlen grabbed onto the World Eater's armour and slammed back into the rockcrete. Before the traitor had chance to rise, Harlen planted his boot into the snarling helmet, completely shattering the helmet and skull within. Without pausing, Harlen barrelled into the next enemy and vowed he would not stop till either he or his foes were dead.

Guardsman Jensen Trover sat with his fellow Heavy Weapons teams open mouthed at the slaughter he was witnessing. Hundreds of gore slicked Space Marines were locked in an epic fight to death, asking for and giving no mercy. Trover saw warriors literally ripped in two, others beheaded or eviscerated, the injured executed where they lay – he's never seen anything like it. He didn't know which group of Marines were friend or foe as it was impossible to identify one blood soaked warrior from another, being covered head to toe in gore.

"Wh...what shall we do, sir?" he asked his sergeant.

"The enemy has presented themselves. We must respond in kind. Open fire."

"But sir! Some of those Space Marines are our allies. What if we injure or, Emperor forbid, kill some of them?

"Nonsense guardsman. They are the Angels of Death; they were created to withstand such dangers. Open fire."

"Yessir." replied Trover as he and the rest of his Heavy Weapon teams took aim and began firing with their heavy bolters.

The first thing Harlen noticed of the attack was several fist sized craters being blasted in the chest of the World Eater he was fighting. Although the Chaos Marine seemed not to notice the gaping holes in his armour, it did cause him to pause for a split second, allowing Harlen to decapitate him with one swift stroke of his chainsword. Following the line of fire, Harlen's augmented eyesight spotted the Imperial Guard Heavy Weapon teams unleashing heavy bolter fire on the embattled Flesh Tearers and World Eaters. Glancing around to see the impact of this unexpected aid, Harlen's choler rose as he saw that several Flesh Tearers had been blasted off their feet and lay dead. He felt the Thirst call to him, urging him to give into his fury.

Thral heard a distant roar of gunfire as he swayed aside from another vicious downward swipe and brought his left chainaxe around and buried it in Brazik's side. The World Eater roared in anger but was suddenly cut off as his body rocked under a series of heavy thumps in his back. Dropping to his knees and pitching forward, Thral was surprised to see that chunks of his armour had been blown away or cracked. Blood and gore pumped from the deep wounds and Thral's trained eye could tell that, despite the World Eater's inhuman tolerance for pain, it would not save him from these wounds. Brazik struggled to rise, roaring blood oaths to his god. Thral planted his armoured boot on his backpack and lifted his right chainaxe.

"_You cannot escape your fate Thral" _spat Brazik from the dirt "_You will fall, some of your warriors are nearly there already."_

"Enough of your lies, traitor." snarled Thral. Just as he was about to end the traitor's existence, Thral felt sudden pain blossom in his abdomen. The pain cut through his killing instincts and Thral suddenly realised that he was under fire. Dirt kicked up around him and he felt a round clip his right pauldron. The force of shot spun Thral round and he felt pain flare up in his shoulder. Checking the wound, Thral saw that a large portion of the ceramite plate had been blasted away. Leaving the World Eater in the dirt, Thral took cover behind a ruin. Harlen's voice suddenly crackled in his ear

"Captain! We're under heavy fire from the west!"

"Who?" asked Thral.

"It's the Guard" growled Harlen "They opened fire, obviously trying to hit the traitors but they're aim isn't that good"

"How many?" asked Thral, fighting to stay calm.

"Twenty killed, more wounded. The World Eaters have also retreated. We need to..."

There was a burst of static and Harlen's vox suddenly went dead.

"Harlen? Harlen?" voxed Thral.

"Captain, Sergeant Harlen is dead, he took a bolter round to the head." voxed Rikko.

White hot fury seized Thral. This was the greatest betrayal he had ever witnessed. The Guard had willingly opened fire, knowing one group of marines were their allies. And they had killed Flesh Tearers, his battle brothers. He felt the red mist descending over his eyes.

"Brothers" he growled "follow my lead. We will make them pay for this."

Guardsman Trover sat opened mouthed as a gore stained giant wielding two whirring chainaxes began to stride towards his position. The warrior's forces, over seventy strong, followed in his wake. Soon, they broke into a run, cutting the distance between them and him at a terrifying pace.

"Sarge? What do we do?" he asked, his voice trembling with fear.

"We will stay and stand against these traitors!" bellowed Commissar Von Blake "and any man who flees will be executed!"

Trover looked back to see that the Marines were almost upon them. "The Emperor protects." He whispered as the Space Marines let loose a roar of hate and smashed into the Guard lines.

The Flesh Tearers ripped through the Imperial Guard in a maelstrom of blood and fury. Within the first few minutes of the slaughter, their chainweapons were clotted with blood and gore, the motors straining and smoking. Some Marines were so gripped by their madness that they dropped their weapons and laid into the guardsmen with fists and teeth, ripping limbs off or chewing throats out. Others paused to drink the blood of dying men, howling wordless roars of hate. The guardsmen didn't even chance to realise what was happening, let alone fight back. Most died in the most horrific ways imaginable; ripped limb from limb, hacked apart by those they had been raised to believe were the saviours of Mankind and instruments of the God Emperor's will. Soon, nothing was left of the Guard other than broken bodies and pools of blood and gore. With no more men to slay, the Flesh Tearers' fury abated and the full horror of what they had done came crashing down on them.


End file.
